


Hawke's Templar

by SmokeysWife



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 00:34:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18325112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmokeysWife/pseuds/SmokeysWife
Summary: Snippets from the tale of Marian Hawke, from Cullen's perspective.





	1. Kirkwall

**Author's Note:**

> Not one of my usual ships, but a headcanon that came and wouldn't depart. I would have loved Cullen as a companion in DA2. Just saying:)
> 
> As usual, characters and world belong to Bioware. I'm just playing in their sandpit.

He’d heard of her by reputation before he met her; Marian Hawke had been making a name for herself ever since she arrived in Kirkwall. It wasn’t until Ser Thrask had told him of her support in bringing a runaway apostate from the alienage to the Chantry that he started to take notice. Of course, from that point onwards she seemed involved in everything.

He’d been surprised when he’d finally met her. Admittedly, their first meeting hadn’t shown him in the best light, as she found him threatening a recruit with his sword, and he had been somewhat flustered even before she skewered him with those piercing blue eyes of hers. He hadn’t been sure what to expect, but a tomboy with a short crop of black hair, a smear of war paint across her nose and a greatsword on her back had certainly not been it.  
He found himself reassessing his preconceptions of her, and then, when she spoke, he had to reassess them all over again. Clearly well educated, polite, considered… she spoke like a high-born lady and yet she looked like a mercenary for hire. She didn’t jump to assumptions, allowed him to explain himself, then asked him what needed to be done. When he was finished, she went on her way and he didn’t hear anything from her again until the missing recruit had been returned.

And then she’d challenged him, in the politest way possible, over his decision of what to do with the trainee knight, and he’d been unable to form a logical argument to counter her recommendation.

That seemed to set the tone for most of their interactions over the coming months. She would help the order, while making it very clear that she would not tolerate unnecessary blood shed. She told him she believed the order was necessary, while gently asserting that the templars could be considered partly to blame for the public perception. She brought down blood mages and abominations, but refused to believe that all mages were inherently dangerous. She was an enigma and a contradiction and, in hindsight, he shouldn’t have been surprised when they found out about the younger Hawke.

 

He’d dismissed the anonymous tip initially. Maker knew for every citizen of Kirkwall who owed Marian Hawke a debt, there was at least one other looking to bring her to heel. But something niggled at him, and eventually he made his way to the dingy house they shared with their uncle in Lowtown.

Bethany Hawke was pretty. That was his first impression of her. She had Marian’s black hair, but where Marian was all sharp angles and hard lines, Bethany was soft curves. When she spoke, it was with the same calm tones but without Marian’s wit or occasional dry humour. It was hard to believe that this girl was a dangerous apostate, but she made no attempt to hide the fact, seemingly resigned to her fate as soon as she saw who had come to call.

He’d felt betrayed. Angry, yes, but more than that, he felt as though he’d been made to look the fool. When Marian walked in an hour later, it had taken only seconds before an impassive mask had slipped over her face. She made no effort to stop them, glancing only at her mother who was weeping in the corner, before hugging her sister goodbye.

It had been a surprise when she’d found him at the Gallows a few days later.

“Knight Commander.”

“Serah Hawke.”

His voice had been cold and she gave an odd little grimace that told him she had expected as much. He had thought she might leave, but instead she continued her eyes on the floor.

“I wanted to thank you. For not…,” she shook her head, and met his gaze. “You could have made things much harder for my family and you didn’t. I… I appreciate that.”

She waited for a moment or two, as though waiting for a response. When she realised that none would be forthcoming she smiled sadly and turned away.

“Why did you do it, Hawke?” he asked, his voice harsh. “Why hide her?”

She stopped, and he saw her shoulders tense. After a moment they relaxed and she looked back over her shoulder.

“She’s my sister,” she said softly. She hesitated, before turning her body to face him fully. “My father was an apostate, circle trained. He died before we left Lothering. When we were little I don’t think it occurred to any of us to question why we never lived in the village, or why Bethany wasn’t allowed out to play with the other children. We were all home-schooled. Carver and I by mother, Bethany by my father.”

“Carver?”

“My brother. He… He was killed as we escaped the darkspawn in Ferelden.” She glanced over her shoulder to where her companions stood, her eyes briefly meeting those of the captain of the guard whom she rarely seemed to be without.

“Neither Carver nor I ever showed any signs of magic, which must have been a relief to mother. I’m not so sure about father; Bethany was always his favourite.” She smiled sadly. “We were teenagers by the time we realised what being an apostate meant. By then it was too late. You know what some templars will do to apostates, any apostate. We couldn’t… we couldn’t run that risk. And father was always so adamant…”

Her gaze fell to her hands which were picking at the stitching on her gauntlets.

“In many ways, it’s a relief really. I’ve been so worried about her, about mother. I think Bethany would have happily gone to the circle when she was younger. She would have turned herself in sooner here if she could have been certain the templars… Well. You hear a lot of stories at the moment.” She met his gaze. “I am sorry. For concealing it, for not… For not pushing her harder. But if you were in my position, if you’d seen what I’d seen, without your ties to the templars, could you honestly say you’d have done any different?”

He opened his mouth, hesitated, and then closed it again. After a long moment he shook his head.

“We are not all alike… You have seen the worst of us, I think, Hawke.”

She smiled wryly.

“I’ve seen the worst of mages as well. I still support the order, Cullen. I… wanted you to know that.”

He smiled then, in spite of himself, and she gave him a shaky grin in return.

“I’m here if you need me,” she said, before turning to go back over to join the guard captain. His expression was thoughtful as he watched her leave.

 

She was true to her word, continuing to support the order when they asked. He’d been wrong when he’d said she’d seen the worst of the order and it turned out she’d been wrong when she’d said the same about mages. Their debriefings grew longer as they worked together to try to make sense of the challenges to their respective beliefs. She maintained that templars were needed but the tightened restrictions were making mages desperate, he maintained that the mages activities were requiring the templars to tighten down. They both agreed that Kirkwall was beginning to feel increasingly like a gunpowder keg, ready to blow at the smallest spark.

And then Leandra died. He’d never visited the Hawke Estate before. He took the opportunity to look around, as he stood awkwardly in the hall waiting for her. He had to admit, it suited her. She’d always seemed out of place in her uncle’s hovel in Lowtown, like a diamond sitting in a coal bucket.

He saw her hesitate as she saw him, before continuing down the stairs. She gestured for him to follow her into the study, walking straight over to a cabinet in the corner.

“Whisky?” she asked, raising a decanter.

“Please.”

He didn’t usually drink, but he didn’t usually have to console bereaved friends either.

“Hawke…” he began.

“She never forgave me for Carver’s death you know,” she said, pouring out two healthy measures. She handed a glass to him as she moved to the sofa, gesturing for him to sit.

“How did he die?” he asked, awkwardly. She let out a loud huff through her nose.

“He ran at an ogre. It killed him in less than a minute,” she shook her head and took a mouthful of whisky. “Mother always blamed me for letting him run ahead.”

“He was still a child?” he asked frowning.

“He was twenty.”

He took a mouthful of his drink, swallowing hard against the burn in his throat.

“She blamed me for Bethany, as well,” she said, her voice distant as she swirled the amber liquid in her glass. He looked at the fire, unsure what to say. Her voice cracked as she continued, “She didn’t blame me for this.”

There was a gentle thud and he turned around to see her sobbing, her head in her hands, tumbler in a mess of whisky on the floor. Wordlessly, he set his own glass down and pulled her to him, crooning softly as he rubbed her back.

 

Looking back, that was the turning point. From then onwards, the situation just kept getting worse in Kirkwall. He could see Hawke trying her best to keep out of it, unwilling for either herself or Bethany to be drawn into the fray, but Kirkwall had other ideas.

First it was the viscount, pulling her into the qunari mess. For once they were completely in alignment on the rights and wrongs, as she told him about Sister Patrice and the qunari hostages. He’d felt a visceral rage, followed by a glow of pride as she’d told him of Patrice’s betrayal and the subsequent fight with the fanatics.

When he’d heard about her standing alone against the arishok he’d been terrified for her, even though he knew she’d survived. From then on, she was the Champion, and it seemed like everyone wanted to use her to their own ends.

He watched as Meredith used her to hunt down escaped mages, playing on her mother’s death. He knew she had also helped out Orsino, willing to do anything that might help diffuse the rapidly escalating tension and keep her sister safe.

As soon as Meredith had declared that the entire circle would be purged he’d known which side she’d stand on. Bethany was in the Circle, how could she do any different? And he’d known, as soon as that piercing blue gaze met his with a surety and confidence in him that he doubted he had ever earned, that he would stand with her.

And then the fight was over, Meredith dead, or at least he hoped so, and he could only watch as she fled for her life, out of the city and away from him.


	2. Inquisition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not one of my usual ships, but a headcanon that came and wouldn't depart. I would have loved Cullen as a companion in DA2. Just saying:)
> 
> As usual, characters and world belong to Bioware. I'm just playing in their sandpit.

Cullen looked up at the soft knock on his door.

“Come in,” he said distractedly, turning his attention back to the paperwork that had quickly become the bane of his life since he had taken up the role of Commander for the Inquisition.

“Varric said I might find you in here.”

He looked up in surprise at the familiar voice. “Hawke!”

“Shhh! I’m meant to be here incognito,” she let out a soft snort. “Although I’m surprised you didn’t hear that Seeker yelling at Varric earlier. I’d be having words if the Inquisitor hadn’t stepped in.”

“You’ve seen the…,” he shook his head in bemusement. “What are you doing here?”

“Varric asked me to lend a hand. We had… a run in with Corypheus a while back. He thought I might be able to help.”

He looked her over. Her hair had grown out since he’d seen her last and she was no longer wearing the war paint. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her without it. The absence made her look… softer.

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze.

“So… I was wondering if maybe you wanted to go for a pint? Varric said the beer at the Herald’s Rest is at least as good as the Hanged Man.”

“That’s not exactly a glowing recommendation.”

“Perhaps not, but unless there’s another pub hidden somewhere in this massive fortress, it’s the best we’re going to get.”

 

“I never got the chance to thank you,” she said, as she sipped at her second drink of the evening.

“For what?”

“Kirkwall.”

He took a drink as he considered.

“I think it’s probably me who should be saying thank you,” he said as he put his beer down again. She smiled at that tapping the rim of her tankard against his.

“You seem… happier,” she said, her eyes playing over his face.

“I am. The order… You helped open my eyes, but I had felt uneasy about some of Meredith’s more… progressive… policies for a while. I was too blinded by my own fear and prejudice to realise it.” He took another swig, “I’m not saying I want to see mages running around unchecked but… we do have apostates on site who have proven… useful. And it’s nice to have a clear cut fight against an ancient magister who may or may not also be an archdemon.”

Hawke gave a gentle snort.

“Yes, I don’t think even Merrill could argue that Corypheus has a nice side.”

“Curly! I didn’t think you knew where the pub was!”

Cullen looked up as Varric swung himself into the chair next to Hawke.

“Are you buying, Varric?” she asked with a smile.

“And here was I thinking you’d be wanting to by a poor dwarf a round.”

“Hmmm…” she said, taking a sip. “And here I was thinking you were a best-selling author these days. Tell me, has Aveline seen the cover of the latest chapter of Swords and Shields yet?”

Varric’s eyes widened in mock-fear and he raised his hands in surrender.

“Alright, alright! What are you drinking, Curly?”

Hawke chuckled as he walked off, shaking her head.

“Curly?” she said, turning back to him. “You must have grown on him. He never used to have a nickname for you.”

“This one I could live without,” Cullen said, wryly.

“I can imagine. It must take you a long time each morning to hide the curls,” she said. She hid her face by taking another drink as she added, “For the record, I always liked them.”

Cullen felt his cheeks flush.

 

“We’re heading out tomorrow.”

Cullen looked up from the board in surprise as Hawke clicked her piece into place.

“So soon?” he asked, ducking his head to hide his confusion.

“I’m worried about Stroud. The wardens are hunting him and there’s been some odd rumours coming out of Crestwood. Undead.” She grimaced and Cullen nodded sympathetically. They’d both seen their fair share of undead in Kirkwall.

“The Inquisitor’s not going with you?” he asked, moving a knight to challenge her queen. She glowered at the piece as though it had personally offended her and he bit back a smile.

“Following on in a few days.” She sat pondering the board for a moment, before her face cleared and she broke into a smile. She moved her queen to place his king in check. “I believe that’s mate.”

He stared down at the board in disbelief before letting out a soft groan.

“I believe you may be right.”

 

“Curly! Not often you darken my hearth. What can I do for you?”

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. It had been almost a week since the Inquisitor had returned from the Western Approach and there was still no word from Hawke or Stroud. Speaking to Varric was a last resort.

“I, er, just wanted to… to see how you were.”

The dwarf shot him a pitying look and Cullen felt himself flush.

“I got word this morning. They’re on their way back and should be with us in a few days.”

“Ah. That’s, er, that’s good then.”

Varric raised an eyebrow, smirking as he held Cullen’s eye. After a long moment he let out a chuckle, shaking his head.

“Fancy a game of Wicked Grace, Commander?”

 

“Heading out again so soon?”

Hawke turned as he spoke, her face breaking into a grin.

“I was going to find you before I left. The Inquisitor has asked Stroud and I to accompany the forward scouts leaving for Adamant.”

Cullen nodded, he’d heard as much in the war room this morning. He’d felt a painful twist in his chest at the thought of Hawke riding off into danger yet again. Something must have showed in his face, because Hawke stopped tightening her stirrups and moved to stand in front of him.

“I’ll be okay,” she said, placing a gentle hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes briefly resisting the urge to lean into her touch. A moment later, it was gone and she’d taken a step backwards, a wicked grin on her face. “I’ll be sure to write to you directly this time. Save you pestering Varric.”

Cullen suppressed a groan, his cheeks flushing as he smiled sheepishly.

“Stay safe, Hawke,” he said, as she mounted her horse. She nodded, her face becoming serious as those penetrating eyes watched him.

“You too,” she said.

 

Cullen was aware that he was drawing curious gazes from the rest of the camp, but he couldn’t help it. It had been several hours since Hawke and the Inquisitor had fallen into the fade, and the relentless pacing was the only outlet he had for the nervous tension that threatened to eat him from the inside out. Lyrium withdrawal was nothing compared to the sudden, overwhelming fear that had consumed him ever since he heard the news.

His heart lurched at the sudden sound of cheering from the far side of the camp, and he pushed the thronging soldiers out of the way as he hurried to the source, his eyes desperately searching. He found the Inquisitor first, tired and defeated, Bull and Dorian just behind, looking shell-shocked. And then his gaze fell on her, walking beside her trusty dwarf as always. Hawke.

He didn’t think as he broke into a run, pulling her into a hug as soon as he reached her. It wasn’t until he heard Varric’s chuckle, hastily turned into a cough, that he remembered where he was. Cullen let her go hastily, his hand going to the back of his neck as he took a step back, his cheeks burning.

“I, er, that is…”

He didn’t have a chance to finish whatever half-formed sentence his brain had decided on, because a moment later Hawke’s lips were on his, her hand tight in his hair as she kissed him fiercely. His arms went around her on instinct, pulling her closer, as the sound of catcalls around them went ignored. She pulled away far to soon for his liking, letting out a throaty chuckle as she rested her forehead against his.

“I think a debrief in your tent, may be in order, Commander.”

“And necessary, Champion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!


	3. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not one of my usual ships, but a headcanon that came and wouldn't depart. I would have loved Cullen as a companion in DA2. Just saying:)
> 
> As usual, characters and world belong to Bioware. I'm just playing in their sandpit.

Ser Barksalot let out a happy yap and Cullen turned with a smile as Hawke approached, her own mabari gambolling around her legs. He pulled her close as she wrapped an arm around his waist, looking out over the mountain range that had been his home for the last few years as the dogs played happily on the battlement.

“All packed?” she asked.

“There wasn’t much to pack in the end,” he said. She nodded.

“Does it feel odd? The Inquisition disbanding?”

“It’s certainly… something. I was with the Order since I was thirteen. I left it to join the Inquisition. Now it’s over and for the first time in my life, I’m completely…” he struggled to find the right word, to describe the lightness in his chest. “Free.”

He felt rather than saw her smile.

“The world still needs saving,” she said.

“The world will always need saving. But perhaps, just for now, we can have a bit of time for us.” He turned, pulling her around to face him.

“So, where would you like to go first?” she said, her eyes playing across his face.

“First, I think we should go to Ferelden. Mia will hunt me down if there isn’t an introduction soon.” He pulled her hand to his lips, kissing the ring that sat on her third finger.

“Meeting the in laws it is. And then?”

He leaned down to kiss her tenderly.

“And then we go wherever we want. While saving the world, obviously.”

“Obviously,” she said, with a grin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
